


A Moment to Breathe

by StarSpray



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Post-Battle of Bywater, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpray/pseuds/StarSpray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sharkey's final defeat, Pimpernel goes looking for Angelica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> written for Tolkien Femslash Week

She didn’t find Angelica until after it was all over—after the battle, and the last confrontation with old Sharkey (Pimpernel had had a good view of that, having been allowed to push her way to the front of the crowd because she was Pippin’s sister). It had been horrible, and she hadn’t understood much of what Pippin and the others said—all that about a War, and whatever Frodo had meant when he spoke about Sharkey once being great and noble. Pimpernel wasn’t sure she cared about all that; she was just glad Sharkey and his awful Worm would never trouble them again.

And now that it was over it felt like the Shire could breathe again.

Angelica’s home wasn’t there anymore; it had been torn down or burned down, and a poorly built row of shacks had sprung up down the lane in its place. Pimpernel paused on the lane, and that was when Angelica herself peered out a window.

Then she came flying out to fling her arms around Pimpernel’s neck. “Nel! What are you doing here? I thought you were safe up in Tuckborough—”

“Pippin came riding up yesterday,” Pimpernel said. “Bold as brass, out in the open, even with all the ruffians around! Anyway our father’s got the whole countryside up in arms, and I’m one of the best archers, so I came straight down here with Pippin—goodness, Angelica, when was the last time you had a proper meal?”

Angelica had always been beautiful—and she’d always known it—but while she was still lovely, her face was so thin as to be almost gaunt, the pink flush in her cheeks gone, and her curls hung limp and dirty over her shoulders. Her dress was dirty, too, and patched in half a dozen places. She shook her head. “It’s those gatherers and sharers,” she said, scowling. “Gathering and sharing— _thieving_ is more like it. They’ve taken just about everything—oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m all right. Mama’s ill, though, so Papa and I have been making sure she gets most of the food…”

Pimpernel had thought it awful at home, but that was only because she’d not known how all the rest of the Shire—and Angelica—were getting along; at least in the Great Smials they’d been safe and comfortable. “Well, it’s all over now,” she said. “Cousin Frodo is back, with Merry and my brother, and Sam Gamgee—they’ve been off in foreign parts, you should _see_ how they’re dressed! And Pippin with a sword ans everything—but they’ve gotten rid of that Sharkey, and they’ll set the Shire to rights again.”

“What, it wasn’t Lotho behind it all?” Angelica asked as she tugged Pimpernel inside. It wasn’t much warmer in the little house, what with all the holes in the walls, but both Angelica’s parents were there, and eager for news, and the company made it seem cozier.

“Well, he was at first, I think,” Pimpernel said. “But he got rather in over his head, and Sharkey had him killed, seemingly.”

“ _Goodness_ ,” exclaimed Angelica’s mother, thin hand flying to her mouth. “How _awful_ , oh, poor old Lobelia, and her in the Lockholes and all.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Lobelia was terrible, but everyone knew how she doted on Lotho. But relief remained the thing most starkly felt, at least for Pimpernel. Angelica still held her hand beneath the table, as the talk went on—talk of the future, of restoring all the holes that had been dug up, or building proper hobbit houses in their place. There was some speculation, too, about what Frodo and his friends had been up to, although Pimpernel knew she was much more interested in that than Angelica was, or her parents, considering she was Pippin’s sister.

“I heard something about a King’s messenger, early this morning,” Angelica was saying. “Threatened one of the biggest ruffians yesterday…”

“That was Pippin,” Pimpernel said. “He came up to the Great Smials full of talk about the King returning, and apparently he’s wearing his symbols, and Frodo is one of the King’s _friends_ , if you believe it…”

Angelica laughed. “I suppose that old saying must fall out of style, now—you know, _when the king comes again_.”

Her father shook his head. “I don’t see how it affects us,” he said. “What kings there are or not out there.” He waved a hand vaguely toward the door. “Frodo’s more like old Bilbo than he ever let on, it seems. And Bilbo was a proper Baggins, back before he went off without a word with _Dwarves_. Addled his brain, it did—well, you two remember his last birthday.”

Of course they did. Who could forget? Pimpernel and Angelica exchanged a smile. They primarily remembered the Party because it had been where they met, although of course they’d both been witness to Bilbo’s last speech, and his strange vanishing.

Pimpernel couldn’t stay—there wasn’t room for her in the little house, anyway. One of her cousins came looking for her, saying Pippin wanted her to get a message of their victory back to their father, and then to their mother and sisters; she was to leave straightaway the next morning, and there were other plans Frodo wanted to relay to her. He was down at the Ivy Bush; they’d opened it back up, mostly for the wounded hobbits to have somewhere properly comfortable to stay while they recuperated, as there wasn’t any beer to drink.

“I’ll walk you,” Angelica said, and they set off. She pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders. “I can hardly believe it’s over,” she said, peering around. “I keep expecting someone to jump out and order us back home, or else we’ll get locked up.”

“Oh! I’ve just remembered, I brought this back for you.” Pimpernel dug into her pocket and pulled out a small convex mirror, wrapped carefully in one of her handkerchiefs. Angelica had sent it to her with one of her last letters, before the Troubles had gotten too bad. Angelica hadn’t wanted it taken by the gatherers, or broken. “I’ve kept it safe, like I promised,” she said.

“Oh, thank you!” Angelica held it to her chest, tears filling her eyes. “It’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever owned, did you know that? Dear old Uncle Bilbo. I know he was teasing, when he left it to me, but I don’t care. Thank you, Nel.” They’d come to the Bush, so she stopped and pressed a kiss to Pimpernel’s lips. “But I’ve missed you more than any silly mirror.”

Pimpernel laughed. She could hear more laughter inside the inn, and a sudden burst of singing—she recognized Pippin’s clear voice, but not the tune. Overhead the clouds had passed and the stars glittered clear and bright in the sky. “I missed you, too. But that’s all over, and once I’m done playing messenger, and every thing’s settled down, I’ll come back for a nice, long visit!”


End file.
